The Boy Who Kissed Me
by BaconWrappedRainbows
Summary: Ross Walters: a mischievous professional opera singer with a history of cutting class, underage drinking, and being awful at goodbyes. He is also Lieutenant Columbo's 'wife'. Columbo/OC (M/M) Pretty fluffy romance. Rated for makeouts and implications of sex. Enjoy!


**A/N: Why hello there!**

**Listen, I sense that I will get a lot of hate for this story, if anyone reads it, so I'd like to clear up a few things.**

**1\. Columbo is gay in this fanfiction. That's just the vibe I get from watching the show. That's not because I think Peter Falk was secretly gay, because, well, he wasn't. Character and actor are separate entities. If gayness offends you then a) why are you on this site b) please step away from this fic.**

**2.I'm sorry if Columbo is a bit OOC. For some reason he's hard to write. I tried.**

**3\. I might stray from what's canon a little, because I don't know or remember every little detail.**

**That's all I've got to say. If I get a positive response for this fanfic and/or I feel like it, I will make a sequel or something of the sort.**

**Thank you!**

**-BWR**

:-:-:

I was about four years old when I first met Ross Walters. It was a hot summer day, the last summer before I would start school. My sister, Mary, and I were waiting for my brother Sal to come so we could start our game of hide-and-seek. When he finally made his appearance, he had brought another young boy along. His friend was from Texas, and it showed. Tall, slightly chubby, blue eyes, pale, freckled face. He had a strong, but pleasant southern accent that seemed to belong either in a cowboy movie or preaching the word of the Lord. The one thing about the seven-year-old's appearance that set him apart was his jet black hair; it was almost jarring against his skin, but quite beautiful.

"Who's that?" Mary asked.

"This is my friend Ross," Sal explained.

"Hi," the oldest boy waved excitedly at us.

"And this is my sister, Mary, and this is my brother, Francesco."

Ross smiled at me. I remembered thinking this boy was really grown up… a thought that would definitely stick with me over the years.

:-:-:

I was seven years old the first time I saw Ross without Sal or Mary around. It was April, and I was rushing to school, already running late. As I ran down the sidewalk and my shaggy brown hair became even more hopelessly messy, I remembered why I hated running so much. I was passing under a tree when I heard a rather suspicious rustling above me. I stopped to look up, extremely curious.

"Psst…"

I spun around, trying to see where the sound could be coming from.

"Chessie, is that you?" someone whispered.

Although it couldn't have been just anyone who made the whisper; only one person called me by that nickname (everyone else called me Frank).

"Yeah, it's me… Ross?" I whispered back.

Another rustle, and a smiling head popped out of the foliage. Ross's trademark black hair was getting long; it was covering one of his dark blue eyes.

"What're you doing in a tree?"

"Hiding."

"From what?"

"Nothin' in particular."

"You're gonna be late for school!"

"I know. I don't wanna go to school, that's why I'm here."

"Oh…"

"Wanna join me?"

"Uh…" I looked in the direction of the school. I had never missed a day before, except when I got sick. But I looked back up to my brother's older, cooler friend and I no longer felt like I wanted to be a good kid. "Okay!" I agreed.

Ross smiled bigger, retreating back in the tree. I couldn't help but smile too, throwing my school bag to the ground. I easily scaled the tree with only a little help from the ten-year-old's steady hands. I then settled myself on a sturdy branch close to where Ross was sitting. Confident that I wouldn't fall out at any moment, I looked around. Green leaves grew thick all around us, shrouding us from the rest of the world. The ground was several feet below my dangling legs, adding to the excitement of the situation.

"You like it?" Ross asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Me too. I like a lot of trees, but this is my favourite."

"You spend a lot of time in trees?"

"You mean instead of going to school?" Ross shrugged. "Sort of, I guess. I do this, like, four times a month, maybe."

"Wow…"

"Don't worry, Chessie, I'm not here all day or anything. I usually go somewhere else when I get all cramped up from sitting."

"Don't you get lonely?"

"Nah. I like being by myself. You're actually the first person I've ever done this with."

I smiled, blushing slightly, despite my best efforts. I was honoured that Ross, in all his coolness, made me the first person he'd skip school with. In retrospect, it may have not been much, but at the time, it meant everything.

:-:-:

Over the next few years, I seemed to grow closer and closer to Ross. Although I'd only join him in his tree once a month or so, we'd often see each other on the weekends and such. And since Sal and Mary were getting to the age where they cared more about the opposite sex than anything else, I got to see him one-on-one more than ever before. I really enjoyed that. It wasn't only the ever-present fact that Ross was more grown-up and liked to cut class and do all kinds of rebellious things. He was also fun to hang out with and I did like him very much.

By the time I was twelve, my brother Sal had already taught me to smoke. To be honest, trying to impress Ross was at least half the reason I took up smoking in the first place, although I'd never let him know. When I told my older friend I smoked already, he was quite in awe, to my delight. But he told me it wasn't as cool as drinking. That must've been the day he showed me the bottle of vodka he'd stolen from the nearest grocery store. Yes, I guess it was, because he had brought me behind the school and decided I should have a drink.

"It's actually easier than smoking," he said, opening the bottle.

"That's good to know."

He took a swig directly from the bottle, swallowing it with ease. "Yeah, this is good stuff," he said. "Your turn."

He handed it to me, and I stared at the clear liquid. It couldn't be _that _bad, I thought. It looked sort of like water. But it smelled strong. I looked up at Ross, who stared at me expectantly. The look on his face dared me to. And I knew I had to, if I did, Ross would be so impressed…

I quickly took a sip, and it felt like my mouth was burning! I had to spit it out. Ross laughed as I handed him back the bottle of vodka. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.

"For a second there I thought you were going to do it," he said, before taking another effortless sip.

"I thought so, too."

"Hey, it's okay. You'll get used to it eventually," he said, patting my shoulder. "I think you're pretty cool for a twelve-year-old, anyway."

I smiled. I guess I had succeeded, then.

:-:-:

It was the end of August. Ross and I sat alone watching the sunset. He was nineteen and this was his last day in New York City before he was going to move away to become an opera singer. My family and his had thrown him a big goodbye party, but now it was just us. I looked over at him. His parents had finally let him grow his hair past his shoulders; it was blowing gently in the wind. He looked back at me and smirked.

"You know, I'm gonna miss you, Chessie," he said.

"I'm gonna miss you, too."

"But I think you'll be okay without me. I've pretty much taught you the ways of the world," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I laughed somewhat sadly. I noticed his hand lingering just a bit too long on my back.

"And for anything else, you've got Sal. He's pretty popular with the ladies, he can give you some advice on that front."

"Yeah, I might need some help with that… I haven't even found a girl I like yet…"

"Francesco Columbo! You're sixteen and you haven't liked a girl yet? What kind of an Italian are you!?"

I laughed again. "I don't know, Ross, I just… don't know."

"If it makes you feel any better, I haven't gone past one date with a girl yet."

"Really? But you're smart, you're funny, you're a good singer, you're handsome –" I stopped, realizing this might sound awkward.

He laughed. "Well, thanks for the compliments. But it's not as much them not liking me, it's me not liking them."

"Oh," I said, "Well… I guess we feel the same way."

Ross's face suddenly became much more serious. "Chessie, I should tell you something…"

"What?"

"You know what… being 'gay' is, right?"

"'Gay', as in 'happy'? Or…"

"'Gay' as in 'homosexual'," Ross clarified.

I was shocked. "Wait, you think I'm–"

"–No, no, no! I'm not saying that. I mean, I accept you if you are, but… I am. I'm gay. I think you should know."

"Oh…" I found myself at a loss for words. I hadn't really expected this…

"Is that… okay with you?"

"Yeah, I mean… I think it's okay with me..."

"I'm glad to hear that. Do you have anything you want to ask me?"

I cleared my throat. "Well, um… How did you find out?"

He shrugged. "I just realized I didn't really feel anything special for any girls I knew, and I did for a boy."

"Okay…"

"Please, don't tell anyone else, though. I trusted you because you've always respected me. But I don't think even Sal or Mary would be okay with it, and definitely not your parents or mine. My mom and dad would probably kill me…"

"Don't worry. I'll keep your secret, Ross."

"Thanks, Chessie. You're a great friend," he said, getting up, "Now, I don't want to be late for my plane."

"Wait, just… one more thing…" I started, standing too.

"What is it?"

"I mean, you said that you found out you were gay because you didn't like girls, and I haven't found a girl I like yet, so…"

"You wanna know if you're gay?"

"Yes…"

He laughed. "Well, I do know a fast and easy method." He stepped towards me, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on my cheek. "May I?"

"Uh…"

Before I could even respond, Ross's mouth was against mine. I made a small noise that could only really be described as whimper as his tongue forced its way between my lips. His hands mimicked the movement of his tongue, one sliding up to thread his fingers into my hair, the other down to the small of my back. Ross pressed me flush against his body; I was worried he could feel my heart pounding through my chest as his lips worked wonders on my own. He slowly released me, his mouth finally pulling away from mine. Only his hands lingered on my body, and his blue eyes met my brown ones.

"Well, you should know now. If you liked that, you're probably gay."

I was too shocked to respond. I simply gaped at the boy who had just kissed me, and made me feel… something, that's for sure.

Ross laughed at my silence, removing his hands. "Okay. You just figure it out for yourself, Frankie. But I've got a plane to catch."

"Wait…"

"You've had your 'one more thing'. I really have to go now."

"Okay, uh… bye…"

"Bye, Chessie," he said, beginning to walk back up the hill.

I watched Ross as he slowly disappeared from my view. Yes, I would miss him.

:-:-:

Two years later, I made the biggest mistake of my entire life. I told my parents I was gay. I should have taken Ross's secrecy as a clue that coming out wouldn't be a smart idea. But I had always been so honest with my parents, and I saw no reason to stop that now. Unfortunately, they didn't appreciate my honesty as much as I hoped they would. They didn't take it well at all. In fact, they yelled at me for what seemed like hours, calling me all sorts of names and accusing me of so many things. They kicked me out of the house, told me they never wanted to see me ever again. I didn't know what to do. I felt totally lost. All I knew is that I had to go somewhere far away and just try to move on.

That's when I settled in Los Angeles. After years of doing odd jobs to make money, I followed my dream of becoming a police officer. It felt pretty good to have a stable job and a home and to be far away from my old life. But at the same time, I missed my family dearly. I had been completely cut off from my siblings, even though they didn't necessarily agree with my parents' decision to disown me. I just had to try to forget.

:-:-:

One Saturday evening, I was lonely and bored out of my mind. I'm not sure what made me decide to go see a production of Madama Butterfly, but I suppose I had always liked operas and classical music.

I got dressed and drove to the opera house, expecting an entertaining but mostly uneventful performance. I got through more of the opera than I should have (it was after the intermission) before I pieced together what was bothering me about the singer playing the part of Lieutenant Pinkerton. Something was odd. Not about his performance; he had a beautiful voice and was playing his part perfectly. No, it was something else. Something about him seemed familiar. I couldn't see his face very well from my mediocre seat, but the way he carried himself, the tone of his voice seemed like I someone I had seen before. This little detail finally bothered me so much that I had to look through the program. When I flipped to his page, I was shocked at what I saw. The tenor in question was none other than Ross Walters. I couldn't believe it. How could it be Ross? Was it actually him, or just someone with the same name? I felt my stomach twist with some kind of mix of excitement and dread. If it was him, I desperately wanted to meet him again, to talk to him now that we're both grown up. But at the same time, he was the one who made me realize I was gay, which got me kicked out of my own home. Seeing him might only bring me bad memories... But the longer I listened to his amazing performance, the more I realized I needed to see him in person.

Well, seeing him proved to not be quite that easy. They hadn't let me backstage. I suppose I should have expected that. I mean, I was just an audience member, I hadn't been invited by a performer, I didn't have some kind of pass or anything... I couldn't even claim it was for a case because, well, no murders had happened. I was just some guy who thought he might know one of the performers. I didn't bother trying to argue my way in. I simply gave up, accepted my fate, and walked out. I thought it might be for the better; maybe it was smarter to leave Ross behind. I thought maybe I should just accept that the past is in the past. Let it go.

I was so concentrated on letting it go, in fact, that I wasn't quite paying attention to where I was going. I didn't notice I was colliding with a man in a tan raincoat until I already had.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" the man said in a subtle southern accent.

"Oh, I'm sorry –" I stopped mid-apology as I registered who I had bumped into.

"...Ross? Ross Walters?"

He seemed confused. "Uh, yes… do I know you?"

"I'm Lieutenant Columbo…"

He still seemed confused.

"Oh, I… I mean, Francesco Columbo, I'm sorry…"

He looked at me funny for a moment, and I thought I had the wrong guy, but then he smiled. "Really? Chessie? It's you?"

I smiled too. "Yeah, it's me!"

"Oh my God… You've changed so much!"

"Well it has been fifteen years..."

Ross laughed. "Yeah, wow... I can't believe it... How've you been?"

"Alright, thanks. And how are you doing?"

"Oh, nicely, nicely. I just finished performing in an opera, actually."

"I know. I mean, I saw it. You were great."

He smiled. "You saw it? Well, thanks. Glad you liked it."

He paused, suddenly out of words to say. I took a moment to just stare at him. Although it was dark, I could still tell that he had barely changed since he was nineteen. Same eyes, same hair, still chubby. But he looked so much more mature... and more handsome too.

"Listen, Chessie, I'd love to stay and talk, but I have to get home."

I should have realized it wouldn't have been that easy. How _could_ it be?

"Oh, of course..."

"I mean, you could come home with me or something if you want..."

"That's very kind of you, Ross, but I don't wanna get in the way."

"It's fine. It's not like I have a wife and kids at home or something. Plus I, uh, might need a lift... The girl who played Kate Pinkerton was going to drive me home but she sort of, uh, bailed on me..."

I laughed somewhat awkwardly. "Well, I guess that changes things. Sure, I could give you a ride home."

"Thanks, Chess." He slid his arm around my waist suddenly, catching me off guard. "Show me the way."

:-:-:

For some reason, driving at night had always made me feel calm. Something about the quiet, near-empty roads made me feel relaxed. But with Ross Walters sitting beside me giving me directions and watching my every move, it was a whole different story. I was more nervous than I should have been following his directions and making small talk between turns. It was probably something about Ross. The boy who I had always looked up to as being grown up and cool, the boy who invited me into his tree, the boy who snuck me vodka behind the school, the boy who kissed me on that hill. He was now a grown man. He was quite attractive and extremely talented, and something about him was making my heart race.

We reached his apartment five or so minutes later. We got out of the car and he took me in the elevator to his fourth-floor apartment.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, letting us in, "I've got music and costume pieces all over the place right now."

"It's alright, I'm sure however it is in here, my house is worse."

He laughed and opened the door, revealing his actually quite tidy apartment. We walked in, and he led me to a couch in the centre of the living room. He moved some sheet music out of the way to allow us to sit.

"So, Chessie, you're a cop now?"

"Yeah, guess I finally got on the good side of the law."

"And I thought I had taught you my way of life," Ross joked.

"You can't be _that_ bad, Ross."

"No, I guess. Not anymore. My days of cutting class and underage drinking are over."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but only 'cause I don't go to school anymore and I'm old enough to drink legally. So I'm just as bad as I was."

I laughed. "Well, in that case, you're lucky I'm off duty."

He smirked. It was very attractive. "I guess I am. But speaking of that, do you want a glass of wine or something?"

"Oh, no thanks," I answered, "I can't drink this late or I'll never get to sleep."

"Suit yourself," Ross said, getting up off the couch. He walked over to the kitchen area of his apartment and grabbed a bottle of wine. "Alcohol is bad for the vocal chords, so I don't drink in the weeks before a show. So you must understand that I get a tiny bit of a craving after closing night," he explained. I watched him almost effortlessly open the bottle, and then pour himself a glass.

"I see."

He took a sip from his glass and walked back towards me. He sat back down, this time closer to me. Ross's thigh was against mine as he made himself comfortable. "Now, Chessie, although our discussion so far has been intriguing, what I really want to know is about your love life."

The suddenness of the question caught me off guard. "Uh..."

"Seeing anyone right now?"

I blushed. "No, not now."

His arm had somehow made its way around my shoulders. "Oh?"

"Yeah…"

"So, when's the last time you saw someone?"

I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell Ross about my awful love life. About the exactly four failed relationships I'd had over the past fifteen years. None of them had lasted longer than a month. They were all with girls, actually. I thought maybe I could turn myself straight if I tried hard enough; if I kissed a girl it would undo what Ross had done to me. But it wasn't that simple. I couldn't just be someone I wasn't, no matter what my parents had tried to tell me. I didn't feel any kind of attraction to any of those women. Although it didn't really matter; none of those women liked me either. I guess I'm just not very attractive.

"It's okay if you don't wanna tell me."

I nodded. "Thanks. It's a little embarrassing."

Ross smiled. "That's alright. My love life hasn't been so stellar either. I mean, I travel a lot, so that does impact my ability to keep a stable partner… But I'm not even gonna pretend that's all. I basically just haven't found the right guy yet."

"Hmm."

"Chessie, you've at least gotta tell me whether you like men or women," his voice was low and he was very close to me. I almost shivered.

"Why do I need to tell you?" I sounded more upset than I intended.

"Well, you don't need to, so to speak, but, well, I just–"

"–I'm gay," I admitted. "I knew since the day you kissed me. You made me feel something I knew I could never feel for a girl. I wasn't even confused, I just knew."

"Oh…"

"And I told my parents when I was seventeen. They kicked me out because they didn't want a queer kid, I guess. They disowned me completely and I had to move here. It was so hard, Ross. I was… I _am_, just... _so_ lonely." I didn't really know why I was telling him all this. But it seemed to affect him. He looked sad.

"God, Chessie… I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. There's nothing you could have done, and there's nothing you can do now."

"Well, you're right that I couldn't have done much back then, but I can do something for you now."

"What can you do?"

He put his wine glass down on the coffee table, and scooted somehow even closer to me. Ross reached a hand out to run through my thick hair, sliding down my cheek before moving back up again. I was both shocked and relaxed at his touch. My heart beat faster.

"Chessie, I've always liked you, you know?"

I turned to look at him, more than somewhat confused.

He chuckled. "I guess you didn't. But it's true. I think I've had a bit of a crush on you since I was ten, before I really knew what I was feeling. By the time I did know exactly what I was feeling, I really wanted to tell you. Of course, I couldn't. Not just because we were both guys. Even if you _were_ a girl, you were so young, so innocent... So there was no way I could have had anything but a tentative friendship with you back then. Especially since I was friends with your older brother; Sal would've killed me if I touched you. But now…" His voice trailed off. He leaned in closer to me, his lips almost touching my ear. "... But now you're a man, Chessie," he whispered, sending chills down my spine, "And I still want you just as badly."

I bit back a moan. Someone had just told me they wanted me. Actually, a very attractive man had just said that. Correction: Ross Walters had just seductively whispered it in my ear.

"Do you want me, too?" he asked sincerely, caressing my cheek softly.

"Ross, I, uh..." my voice came out rough and gravelly, almost sultry, but not even in a good way. More in the way of an accidentally aroused teenager.

"You can say no. That's why I'm asking."

"I… I think I do…"

"You 'think'? I need a yes or a no, babe."

I took a deep breath. God, this was all going so fast. It was so late I could barely think straight (well, not that I was ever thinking 'straight' to begin with, so to speak). Or maybe it was actually Ross casting this fog over my brain… Well, of course, it had to be. All the signs were there: elevated heart rate, heavy breathing, intense focus only on the man sitting close to me. Of course it was him.

"Do you want to just kiss first? So you can be sure?" he asked gently.

"Yeah…"

"Okay. Tell me if you want me to stop."

And then Ross's lips were against mine. It was almost as if the last fifteen years hadn't happened; that we were back on the hill in New York and he was kissing me. I was instantly filled with some kind of youthful passion, and a deep moan escaped me as I kissed him back. He became more lustful as he realized I was reciprocating his kiss; he almost growled as he thrust his tongue into my waiting mouth. Hands gripped against clothes and hair and tongues battled for dominance as both of us lost ourselves in the passionate embrace. He broke away, panting almost as hard as I was.

"How 'bout now? Can I have you now?" he asked.

The boy who had invited me to his tree was now inviting me to his bedroom.

"God, yes," I managed to say.

:-:-:

"Babe, wake up."

Ross was gently brushing my hair away from my face. I groaned, trying to decide between rolling around and ducking my head under the covers, and enjoying his gentle caresses.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart."

"Ross, why're you getting me up? You know I need my eight hours…" I mumbled.

He laughed, but he didn't sound too happy. "Chessie, I'm getting on a plane to New York in an hour and a half, and I have to leave in fifteen minutes… I wanted to say goodbye to you."

Suddenly forgetting, my drowsiness, I opened my eyes and stared at him incredulously. "You're what?"

"I know it's soon, honey, but I'm doing Carmen at the Met and I've got my first rehearsal tonight. I mean, I wish I could stay with you, but…" his voice trailed off.

"I understand, but why didn't you tell me?" I asked, slightly irritated.

"If I had told you, would it have changed anything about last night?"

"...No."

"So it doesn't really matter, then. Plus, I didn't want to do anything to ruin last night. It was… it was perfect."

I sighed. "Yeah… It was."

"You're amazing, Chessie, and I hope you know that. As a person, and as a lover."

I blushed. Funny how Ross could always get me to do that. "Thanks… same goes for you."

He chuckled, kissing me on the forehead. "I must be pretty good, 'cause at some point, I reduced you to muttering in Italian."

My face turned an even darker shade of red.

He seemed amused at my response. He kissed my nose before standing up. "Well, I should probably call a cab…"

"No, no…" I said, clumsily sitting up, "I'll drive you to the airport."

"Babe, you don't need to do that for me."

"I want to. You're so awful at goodbyes, I need another few minutes with you."

He laughed. "Am I really that bad? Okay. Get dressed."

:-:-:

The drive to the airport was almost a repeat of last night's drive, except for with less sexual tension. We chatted kind of pointlessly between his direction-giving. I tried to simply enjoy his presence rather than think about how he'd soon be gone. When we finally pulled up to the airport, though, neither of us were particularly happy.

"Well, here we are," I said to Ross.

"Yeah," he sighed, "Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome. And... Ross, before you go, I just want to make sure we're on the same page with... whatever we are."

He nodded. "Good idea. Well, Chessie, I'm happy with whatever you want this to be."

I realized he was waiting for me to tell him what I felt. I took a deep breath. "Well, I have actual feelings for you, feelings I know I won't have for anyone else. I want to see you again, Ross. I want something with you when you come back."

"That's what I feel too," he said, "I never wanted this to just be casual sex, Frankie. So don't worry. I won't pull a Lieutenant B. F. Pinkerton on you: go to New York, meet some other guy, and bring him back here years later to meet you."

I laughed. "I'm glad."

He smiled, touching a hand to my cheek. "I'm not even gonna look at any other guys, Chessie. In fact, I'm not gonna tell anyone I'm gay. If anyone asks, I have a wife named Francesca."

I leaned slightly into his touch, still grinning. "Yeah, same here. Except my wife's name is Rose."

He laughed, leaning close to kiss me quickly. "Bye, Chessie. See you in a few months."

I kissed him back, trying to keep his lips on mine for longer this time. To my happiness, he was better at goodbye kisses than at general goodbyes. We stayed there for a minute, maybe more, gently but passionately kissing each other, neither wanting to let go. But Ross eventually had to break the kiss. He touched his nose to mine, before finally pulling back all together.

"Bye, Ross."

He got out of the car, and went to the trunk to retrieve his suitcase and coat. He turned to go into the airport, but he stopped and walked back to my car. "Oh, I almost forgot... there's one more thing." He opened the door again and placed his tan raincoat on the passenger seat.

"What?"

"I'm giving you my coat. It's yours now. Not much to remember me by, but, uh… I think it would look good on you."

I smiled. "Thank you, Ross. That's very generous of you."

I swear I saw him blush as he backed away again. "You're welcome… Uh… Bye, Chessie."

"Bye, Ross."


End file.
